Assassin's Dynasty
by Lightning Oz
Summary: 2008, Abstergo launches their first step for a new world order. Zack is trying to have a normal teen life in a normal town after what happened to his mom, though he can't remember what happened to her. But murder & kidnap begins all because of a simple errand run for a nice librarian. His only solution is Marcello Auditore, who journeys for his father's unfinished last secrets.
1. Lunch Break

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I just finished watching the walkthroughs of _Assassin's Creed III _instead of playing it (but that's because I still don't have the game). I don't have _AC4_, so I don't know what's going to happen. I actually liked the ending from _AC3_, very twisted and pretty exciting. All you whiny haters can suck it._

**4/27/14 update: So I wasn't really planning on deleting this story, but I had to because I couldn't find another way to keep my reviews tidy and free from negative comments from trolls.**

**Disclaimer: I own characters not originally from the series, nothing else**

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**ONE**

_Autumn, 2008  
New England_

"Mr. Romero!"

Most of the students' attention turned to the teacher, a plump middle-aged man with a beaked nose and more hair around his chin than his head. The teacher stood up from behind his desk, removed his reading glasses.

His eyes narrowed at a teen boy seated in the back of the room. The boy was about sixteen or seventeen years of age, the average ages of students in the class. He wore a flannel shirt and a dark gray zip-up sweater. The hood was over the boy's head, which was resting with his arms covering his eyes on the desk surface – he was asleep.

The teacher let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his glasses with a cloth. "Mr. Romero!" he called again.

A blonde girl seated beside him gently shoved the boy's shoulder. "Hey, wake up," she said.

Zack Romero woke up immediately, startled. You're still in class, he reminded himself. But his heart pace was still fast. Slowly, he rubbed the sleepiness off his eyes, yawning and lifting up his head off his desk.

"Here," Zack responded, still feeling groggy. He saw the teacher shaking his head slightly, obviously disappointed at the boy's behavior.

"The answer, Mr. Romero," drawled the teacher, "for my question about the movie we've been enthusiastically watching."

Half of the students snickered under their breaths.

A movie? Literature class, Zack remembered, watching an educational movie video. What movie were they watching about their lesson...?

When Zack hesitated to answer, the teacher sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'll repeat the question again," he said reluctantly. Some students murmured and snickered until their teacher shushed them. "A god used a fruit to trick his captive, to gain some certain control over her will in order to stay with that god. What was the fruit mentioned just now?"

Zack frowned a little, his eyebrows bunched together.

_Control...?_

"Apple...?" he murmured to himself.

"What was that you mumbled? Speak up, Mr. Romero!"

Zack slowly exhaled through his nose, his hands balled up tightly under his arms. He didn't want another detention for snapping at the school staff or other authority...again.

"Is it an apple, sir?" Zack answered reluctantly.

His teacher scoffed under his breath as he sat back down behind his desk. "Close," he retorted, and turned to the rest of his students. "It's a pomegranate, which is also known as 'the fruit of the dead.' Hades offered Persephone a pomegranate, and she ate three seeds from it..."

A few students giggled.

"Minds out of the gutters! You didn't even laugh at it properly..."

The teacher's eyes leered over the room, checking all of his students cautiously. Then he pressed the Play button to continue the mythology video, and said, "Pay attention to the movie, people."

Ten minutes later, the bell rang. Class was dismissed.

It took Zack three minutes to get to his locker, and he was unaware that the blonde girl from his literature class was following him.

He was opening his locker when the girl tapped his left bicep. He jumped a little, startled, and twisted his body to face the girl, who was a few inches shorter than him and stood about a foot away from him. Of course he was a bit surprised – most girls at this school rarely talked to him, unless it was gossip about him being a freak, a loner – whatever came in mind.

"Sorry for sneaking up on you," the blonde girl sincerely said, and held out a 5.5 inch x 8.5 inch sketchbook. "You left this on your desk."

"Thanks..." His response trailed off because he didn't know what her name was. Actually, he didn't remember seeing her on his first day at school. Maybe she was absent during the time he was attending? Long absence, he thought.

Zack took back his sketchbook, accepting her kind gesture. Carefully, he surveyed the sketchbook, checking the front and back cover. He didn't remember taking out his sketchbook during class, but he guessed it was before he fell asleep during the movie. On the front cover was a large scribble of an upside-down script V or triangle shape with a curved line at the bottom. He didn't remember drawing that.

"I didn't look inside, if you're wondering," the girl promised. She noticed the symbol on the cover with curiosity. "What's that?"

Zack shoved his sketchbook in his messenger bag and murmured, "Nothing special."

Of course, she wasn't convinced, but she didn't push him. "Nothing special. Right. I know this is a bit late, but you're the new guy, the one that transferred here about a month ago?"

Zack nodded. "Yeah, that's me. You're in my Lit class, next desk on the left, right? I don't remember seeing you before."

"That's because my class schedule was changed," she answered, "and then I got very sick for a week. And I had to go away for my grandmother's funeral for another few weeks."

"Oh. Um..." Normally, people would apologize about someone's death, but he didn't understand why an apology would make things better. "Um, that's...unfortunate...?" he offered awkwardly.

Instead of raising an eyebrow at him in a he's-a-weirdo kind of way, she smiled and laughed. That was a nice change.

"Yeah, I guess it was unfortunate. My great-grandmother was almost one hundred and two and she knew it would happen someday, so...yeah." She pulled a loose blonde strand behind her ear. "My name's Susan, by the way..."

Before Susan could continue and offer a friendly handshake, three girls at the corner of the hallway called her name and waved at her to join them for lunch.

Susan gave Zack an apologetic smile. "I better go before they decide to kidnap me to lunch." As she walked away, she added, "I'm part of the welcoming committee. If you have any questions at all, don't afraid to ask me. And I don't blame you for sleeping in Fig's class."

Zack made a mental note of that offer. He watched her leave with her friends until they were out of his sight. He could have sworn he saw one of Susan's friends giving him a somewhat disgusted look.

After closing his locker, he followed the other students to the cafeteria.

However, Zack wasn't actually hungry. Also, he forgot his lunch money this morning, for the second time this week. Despite that, he settled at an empty round table and took out a slim book to read, his legs crossed and feet rested on another chair.

"'Everyone sees what you appear to be; few experience what you really are.' Ain't that the truth?"

Zack looked up from his book.

Across from him was a sort of avenge, scrawny-looking guy, about the same age as Zack, who looked like the Asian version of Waldo—(minus the cane) red striped shirt with long sleeves pushed up to the elbows, a beanie hat, and thick, black-framed glasses.

"Alvin, what the hell are you talking about?" Zack asked, obviously confused with the quote that was said.

Alvin, the Asian Waldo, smiled and placed his lunch tray to the side. He placed a laptop in front of him. "It's a quote from _The Prince_, Z. Isn't that what you're reading there?"

Zack glanced at his book's cover. There wasn't a picture. Just the faded bold title, "The Prince", and below had the author's name, Niccolò Machiavelli. He borrowed it from his sister. It was well worn out.

"You've read this?" Zack remarked.

Alvin shook his head, opening a messy barbeque sandwich from a wrapper. "Read it somewhere online," he said. "Why are you reading it? I thought Mr. Fig assigned the class some Greek or Roman stuff."

"This is for history. Extra credit or something like that."

"Falling behind?"

"Yep."

"Lazy ass bum, you..."

He snorted. "Yeah, tell me about it."

Alvin Sato was a good friend. Zack could tolerate with him. They had been on good terms since he moved into the area. Sure, the guy could be annoying sometimes, but it was nice having company around, especially if you're still the new kid.

After glancing at the page, Zack let out a sigh and stored the book away in his backpack. "I'm barely done with the first chapter."

"Go to Sparknotes. It's your best friend, like Google," Alvin humored. "Or like me."

When he turned to his laptop, he cursed. "Piece of shit! Stupid laptop keeps lagging," he muttered, shaking his head in disappointment. "This crap is out of date. I need a new one. I heard Abstergo's laptop is pretty good, decent specs, nice price. My dad might get me for my birthday, or at least I hope so... Oh, and Darth Vader's your father and I'm getting married to Jessica Alba in a few weeks. Dude, are you even listening?"

In fact, Zack was doing the complete opposite. He was looking over at his southeast direction. About twenty yards away, next to a round tall pillar, four girls occupied a table. Susan was one of those girls and she mostly stood out to him. Her sunlight blonde hair looked natural unlike the bleach-blonde that looked badly dyed on one of her friends. The dimples were hard _not_ to notice, whenever she'd smile or laugh. Sweet and sincere, his instinct described her, and he was sure of his judgment for once.

When Susan's green eyes glanced his way, she passed him a small, soft smile. Zack, with his face feeling tingly for a moment, smiled back at her.

And then a red apple smacked the side of his head.

Zack was, of course, startled. His focus on Susan was broken, and he glared across his table at Alvin, who ate his sloppy barbecue sandwich acting innocent. "What the hell?!"

Alvin was trying not to laugh. "What, you done fantasizing yet?"

His lips formed a small scowl. He glanced at Susan, who bit her lips to contain her giggle. _Oh, great_, thought Zack, _she saw that_.

Sighing, he shook his head and twitched a slight smile. "I wasn't _fantasizing_," he said. "But that doesn't mean you had to throw an apple at me! And I'm pretty sure Jessica Alba just got married."

"Psh, I can still dream." Alvin laughed. "I thought you were hungry! You don't have any food."

Zack stared down at the apple in front of him. It landed on the table after it hit his head. The fruit was ruby red, almost like the color of blood.

_The Apple..._

Something about that thought made him feel nervous. Slowly exhaling through his nose, he carefully pushed the apple closer to his friend, and murmured, "I'm not hungry."

Alvin frowned at him. "Are you sure? I know we have P.E. after lunch, but you gotta have food in your stomach, Z."

Zack shrugged. "I don't like apples right now," he admitted.

"Aw, come on, man! Apples are good for you. They keep the doctors away or something like that. They start with the letter A – like my name and the grades you need to get. What are you gonna do, steal somebody's lunch instead?"

He shrugged again, and heard a group of students walking pass behind him. From the corner of his eye, he noticed one guy wearing a letterman jacket had one part of his backpack not completely zipped closed. No one – except Alvin – noticed Zack reaching inside the backpack and pulling out a bag of popcorn in less than three seconds before the group left.

"Taking a jock-head's snack," Alvin observed. "That's okay, I guess."

Zack smiled cheekily as he ate a few pieces. He glanced back at Susan, who shook her head and playfully rolled her eyes at him. _Hm, she saw that, too._

"Susan Newcastle," Alvin informed his friend, whether he was listening or not. "Former co-captain cheerleader, member of the photography club, school's welcoming committee, and a few other clubs I don't know, has a cool photography blog, family owns a local coffee bar...I _could_ go on, but I get the feeling all of that would fry your sensitive brain."

"I _heard that_, Al," Zack warned, breaking his focus on Susan. "How do you so much about her? Kind of sounds a bit stalk-ish, don't you think?"

Alvin waved dismissively at him. "Being in the yearbook club has its perks. She's also in that club. You should join a club, too," he prompted. "You know, to meet new people and make more friends."

Suddenly a piece of puffed Cheetos hit Alvin's cheek, causing him to flinch. Zack frowned. He looked over across the cafeteria where the wrapper was from and saw a group of guys laughing and high-fiving each other. His brows creased. Jocks and bullies. Typical.

"Or enemies..."

"Don't worry about it," said Alvin. "At least it didn't go in my ear. Plus, I got a free snack. Come here for a sec and check this out."

He switched his seat to Alvin's side. Alvin clicked a link from his laptop –

Then Zack cursed under his breath.

"What?"

"I forgot to tell her my name."

Alvin rolled his eyes. "Forget about Susan right now. I'm sure she'll find out soon, unless someone tells her your name's Bob or Huckleberry Finn, whatever. Just check this out first, okay?"

After Alvin scrolled down and clicked another link, his laptop revealed an article, with the title in bold – ABSTERGO LAUNCHES SATELLITE PROJECT – which discussed about the satellite being recently launched.

"Akashic Satellite Plexus," Alvin summarized from the article, "Abstergo's latest project to help achieve their goal of 'advanced technology for a New World'. It was just launched to the sky a week ago."

Zack creased his eyebrows. He wasn't much of a technology guy. He rarely touched his cell phone. "What are they trying to do? Compete with NASA?"

"Beats me. But don't you think it's kinda weird for them, though? They just decided to announce they had a satellite they've been working on for who-knows-how-long and decided to announce it to the world a week after it was launch. I mean, I think it's pretty cool that they're planning on making a video game entertainment branch later, but what's this satellite supposed to be for?"

"Simply be a collection of communications, weather, and observation satellites."

"How'd you know?"

"It says so on the article." Zack lightly flicked Alvin's forehead. "But I guess you're right – it is kind of weird."

He continued staring at the laptop screen, focusing on Abstergo's triangular logo. It gave him a slight chill whenever he'd see it. It was almost like he had seen it more than a dozen times in a single place somewhere. Sometimes he'd picture it forming into a cross...

A pop-up appeared in the screen. The small window had a large white Abstergo logo before it turned upside down, and the window slowly turned red. The white thin letters E and R appeared below, but Alvin closed the window before it could finish spelling.

"That thing always pops up sometimes," said Alvin as he drank his milk carton, "not sure why, but it doesn't matter. Some kind of scam or random pop-up, maybe. Do you have extra gym shorts by any chance?"

A football sharply hit the back of Alvin's chair, causing him to sputter his milk, which splattered on the front of his shirt and pants and a little on Zack. The milk carton accidentally slipped out of his hand and landed on the floor close to Zack's shoes.

The same group that threw the piece of snack earlier cackled out loud, along with a several other students who witnessed it nearby.

_Enough is enough_.

Zack was already on his feet as his friend insisted him to let it go – he wasn't the forgive-and-forget type. He picked up the football from under his chair.

"Hey!" called one of the jocks who stood up, "I want my ball back."

Zack's eyes narrowed at him. He couldn't tell if the jock was a junior, the same grade as Zack, or a senior. His orange-red hair was so spiked up with hair-gel that it almost looked like his head was on fire, but he was definitely the sort of jock-type from any high school.

The red-head and a few of his friends snickered as Zack kept glaring at him. "C'mon, dude," said the Jock, taking a few steps forward. "What're you, deaf? Give me back my ball."

"Okay."

His fingers tightened around the football. Everything happened almost too fast to process. Instead of handing the football in the jerk's hand or lightly tossing it back, Zack sharply flicked his arm under and the ball shot out of his hand like a torpedo or... a knife... as if he'd done this a million times.

The red-haired jock caught it, but he was startled – the football impacted right above his groin, causing him to staggering back and stifle a painful groan.

Half of the cafeteria went quiet. About a dozen of murmurs filled the surrounding. Oh, great – _attention_. Of course, that was a sarcastic thought. Even Alvin was staring him, confused, cautious, or both. Keeping his eyes low, Zack picked up his messenger bag's handle and started walking away.

"Hey, wait!" Alvin called, but was ignored.

Zack couldn't get himself to glance at Susan, who, no doubt, was probably thinking what he was a freak or something worse than that.

_Deep breaths, count to three each time_, he repeated in his head. _Control your temper, control your temper..._

And this migraine – god damn it! Every time... why did it always happen to him whenever something like this happened?

Zack had to weave through more crowds of students leaving and entering the cafeteria. It was a big school. He found himself now seated on a bench somewhere in the school's indoor courtyard, hopefully away from the crowds.

He pulled out his sketchbook, opened to a blank page, and pressed the tip of his mechanical pencil on the surface.

His mind was blank. Part of him could just impressionistic-like scribbles, but he couldn't think of anything. Lately, he'd been drawing towers with a person on the edge in different poses – almost twenty sheets, both sides, were filled with that concept. He was just less an than inch away from filling up his sketchbook.

Exhaling slowly, Zack put his pencil away and his sketchbook aside, and reached for a different pocket of his backpack.

Before he could take out his meds, Zack was startled by the sudden appearance of the red-haired jerk, who pushed Zack's backpack off the bench and sat on the empty stop next to him.

"Hey, ain't you that new guy that moved to town about a month ago? That was a really good arm back there!" Feigned friendliness – it was obvious. Zack tried to stand up, but Red-head pulled him back down. "What's your name again? Jack? Zeke?"

"It's Zack," he muttered. "What's yours, Dick?"

Red-head replied with a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes and his nose almost seemed to flare a bit for a second. He gave Zack a few pats on the back – a few _hard_ pats – squeezed a shoulder a little tight. "Funny...you're a pretty funny guy, Zeke, just frickin' funny. Say, what's that there?"

Zack knew he should not have fallen for that. His eyes followed Red-head's finger pointing down at his feet, and then Red-head sharply flicked Zack's forehead.

"Aw, sorry about that, man." He didn't bother to stifle his cackle. There were a couple of guys laughing with him nearby – part of Red-head's entourage, no doubt.

Red-head gave a few not-so-soft pats on Zack's side of his face as Zack rubbed his forehead. "You know, your throw from earlier kinda did hurt. You see, I can't get injure right now 'cause, well, I'm pretty important in the school's sports department."

Zack didn't respond to that. He shrugged the guy's arm off his shoulders.

When he didn't say anything for another few seconds, Red-head continued. "But you know what? I'm gonna forgive you for that – for now. And I just realize that my friends and I haven't given you our greetings on your first day here. How rude of us! Let me make it up to you."

Before Zack could react, Red-head and one of his pals grabbed both his ankles and both his arms, and then tilted him back into the large school fountain behind them. He didn't even notice that fountain behind him before. It was almost like a big kiddie pool than an average fountain.

Zack gasped out the fountain water and sat up quickly. Red-head grinned as his friends howled at him, along with a few other students nearby.

Then Red-head noticed Zack's sketchbook, which had been harmlessly lying on the bench. Not a single water drop had hit the cover. He smirked mischievously.

"Welcome to my school, loser!" he said, and snatched sketchbook as Zack started climbing out of the fountain. Then they ran away.

Zack was raging inside. He didn't care how drenched he was from head to toe, or that a couple of students took a few pictures of him with their cell phones.

He ran after them.

Red-head had tossed the sketchbook to one of his three friends. Zack noticed, and chased after the guy only guy wearing a football jersey – Frank...something...that was his name, because he remembered his acne-covered face from one of his classes.

Frank ran up a staircase. Zack had to push his way through several students in his way. It took him less than a minute to catch up to Frank and grab the back of his shirt's collar – however, Frank had already tossed the sketchbook over the rail back to the first floor, and another douche from Red-head's gang caught it.

Why did they have to build this school God-damn big? It was almost like running through a cathedral or a mall.

Zack glared at Frank like a pissed eagle and shoved him to a trash bin as he hurried for the nearest stairwell. He knew he was going to lose sight of his sketchbook soon. Without thinking, he instantly climbed over the rails of the last landing and fell about six feet to the first floor before landing smoothly right on his feet.

Obviously a few students close by gawked at him when he did that. _Why_ did he do that – jumping off the stairs without taking the last dozen steps? He didn't know he could do that. It just felt like an instinct – the fastest way down.

Zack spotted the guy, who was mockingly waving the sketchbook far across from him. The bell rang, indicating that lunch had ended. It would take ten minutes for the second bell to ring for the next class to start. A second later after the bell, students started pouring out of the classrooms or from the cafeteria. They blocked Zack's line of vision, but he knew the guy ran outside to courtyard.

Zack swam through the crowd as fast as he could. He passed by Alvin, who tried to get his attention but failed, and burst through the exit. The sunlight nearly blinded him once he'd stepped out, from the sky and pavement ground. The courtyard was a very wide and open area, almost the size of a football field, and there was an open basketball court to the far side. Zack didn't see his target there...

Wait – _target?_ Since when did he become all tactical? Well, that wasn't something to concern about right now.

After recognizing his face, Zack spotted him jogging across the grass to another school building. He grabbed the jerk by the collar before he could pass through the door. However, before Zack could demand to give the sketchbook back, the guy raised both his empty hands, grinned and looked pass Zack's shoulder.

Red-head gave a false-friendly wave with Zack's sketchbook before running away with the sketchbook to the sports field. When he took a step forward, Zack felt something smooth under his shoe. It was a piece of paper...with _his_ drawings on that paper. _That bastard..._

Cursing under his breath, Zack pursued him. He shoved a few people out of his way, hearing rude responses behind him.

He was actually able to catch up with him under two minutes later. For a supposedly big-hit high school athlete, the guy wasn't very fast. Red-head ran through a group of cheerleaders and dashed between two sideline benches, which he thought would slow down Zack.

Instead of running around them, Zack zipped passed the scattered girls, almost effortlessly leaped over a bench without staggering, and he tackled Red-head to the ground.

He had him pinned down, almost eating the grass, in some kind of grapple. Zack's weight was against Red-head's back, and he locked an arm tightly so he could try reaching for his sketchbook, which Red-head stretched his arm to keep it out of reach.

"Give it back!" Zack demanded, almost feeling like an upset child who had his toy stolen. He almost started to choke Red-head in a headlock as he struggled to keep him down. It wasn't his intention to, but he couldn't help himself from feeling pissed off.

Almost a minute later, someone pulled him off of Red-head, who had been picked up and restrained from charging at Zack by the school's big coach. The vice principal stepped between them. He was obviously upset by the incident.

"What in God's name is going on here?" barked the vice principal, Mr. Jones. He used to work in a private army or security of some sort – at least that was what people had told Zack.

"He stole my sketchbook!" Zack accusingly pointed at Red-head for a moment.

"I did not! He willingly gave it to me."

"He's lying!"

Unfortunately, the objections didn't seem to matter to Jones. He glared at both of the teen boys. "I don't care who's lying or not, or whose fault it is," he retorted. "Both of you have caused a great disturbance on this school ground. You two head straight to the office this instant!"

The coach looked more stunned than Red-head. "But, Mr. Jones, you can't give him detention now," he protested. "There is a big game we're practicing..."

Jones scoffed. "Then you should have made sure your star athlete stayed out of trouble. And you." He turned to Zack, his eyes narrowed into slits. "Romero, isn't it? I had expected _much_ less trouble coming from you, regarding from your, ahem, records. Office, now."

"But my sketch–"

"NOW."

There was no point of arguing any further – or cursing off at Jones, in Zack's case. That would just cause more problems.

Biting his tongue, Zack snatched his sketchbook off the ground as Red-head was steered away to get a lecture from his coach. The vice principal was already walking back to the school building. After dusting off the dirt and grass from the cover, Zack opened it – no... No, _no!_

They trashed his artworks more than he'd expected. A few pages were missing, along with one half torn apart; and some of his best drawings – ruined, with unnecessary marker doodles by those jerks. Most of the doodles were inappropriate to describe.

"Dammit!" Zack forced himself to thrust his sketchbook inside a trashcan after taking out four pages that were still in good condition.

_High school is a _puta, he noted and dragged himself back inside the school to get detention.

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**Thank you for reading! :D Please, give me some support, review, comment, whatever. Just please be nice and positive. I will appreciate it very much.**

**More of Zack's personal info and such will be mentioned along the story, so please be patient with me, because I take A LOT of time on my writing :P I know what I'm doing...sort of.**


	2. Detention

_Author's note: I'm probably not getting many views and such, which doesn't surprise me. But that's not going to stop me. The summary I wrote for this isn't exactly very good to me and I'm sorry if it confused you. I'm not so great at summaries, especially with the character limit FF has, and I'm not completely sure how the story will go. It only makes sense in my head. I got bits of ideas in my mind, which isn't very organized; however, I am doing research, both from the AC world (thank god for Wiki) and reality. I even set up Zack's family tree – or at least I'm trying to._

**Disclaimer: Is it really that necessary for me to include that I don't own anything from the AC franchise on every chapter?**

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**TWO**

After receiving his detention schedule, Zack had to gather his belongings from near the indoor fountain. His bag looked untouched, except his bottle of meds was missing.

"This day just gets better and better," he grumbled to himself. How was he going to explain that to his sister? Or explain why he got detention? Well, he knew how and why. . . . He was still innocent here! Even though he put the guy in a chokehold-headlock, whatever, he was still innocent.

Maybe he should reconsider that free therapy session, but he didn't feel like he was making much progress. If another shrink told him he was in denial, then...well, he wasn't sure yet, but he knew he would snap or something.

Zack decided to ditch P.E. class, the first time since his last school. No one bothered to look for him, and hiding in the restroom was easy. He managed to change into dry clothes with his gym uniform – a school hoodie and an extra pair of shorts that Alvin had asked for. At least this school had cleaner stalls. He spent most of his time reading "The Prince" and listening to music. When the bell rang almost an hour later, he left the room and headed to his locker, where he was cornered by Alvin, who had probably wondered what happened to his friend, no doubt.

"Z, why didn't you go to phys ed. class? Word got around fast! Mostly from the cheerleaders' locker room, anyway. I heard you were chasing around a few guys around the whole school like a ninja; and then I also heard you beat down Chris at the football field – which I kinda applaud you. But man...why?"

"Chris? That's Red-head's name?" Zack sighed as he shut his locker door after stuffing his wet clothes inside. He didn't want to do this now, but he had to try being polite somehow. "Alvin...look I don't want to talk about it now. And I didn't exactly beat the guy, okay? I just...well, tried to pin him down until he'd say 'uncle' – but he didn't, so...yeah, that's all."

Alvin started following beside him heading to his next class. "Look, I honestly think the guy deserved it along with his friends, but you got to be careful," he warned. "Chris Durango isn't someone you should cross too often."

"What's so special about Chris Durango?"

"Well, for starters, his dad's the principal."

Well, no wonder why he overheard Chris telling his friends about his one day detention. Zack received almost an entire week, and he didn't even make the guy bleed! Not yet, anyway.

Judging by his friend's face, Alvin understood what he was thinking. "Yeah, very unfair," he said with a nod. "He's, like, the school's football number one player, even though he isn't very good. Also, he used to date Susan."

Zack almost choked on his water that he just drank. "Hum-ah?"

"Yep, they used to date, since freshmen year or a year before, I think. They broke off about a year ago, but I don't know why. Try to ask her if you can."

Hard to believe a girl like Susan dated a dick like Chris, Zack thought.

They parted their ways one minute before the last bell. Zack occupied a desk at the far back corner of his history class. History was okay. There were some interesting old facts, some simple to remember, but sometimes he'd find it...dull. Maybe that wasn't the right word for it, but he wished there was something more to the facts.

Before class started, Zack looked over at the door window next to him and noticed Chris Durango following Susan Newcastle. Just seeing Red-head made him clench a tight fist under the desk. Chris looked like she was trying to talk Susan into something or whatever, but Susan casually brushed him off. That made Zack smiled a bit. He was surprised when Susan stepped under the history room's threshold.

"Seriously, Chris," she said. "Go to class, I mean it."

Zack kept his head low in case Red-head saw him. That failed, because he saw Chris shot a glare at his direction as he left. The glare wasn't very intimidating.

The history teacher, Mrs. Lee, arrived to class last a half-a-minute after the bell rang. Susan approached Mrs. Lee and handed her a piece of paper to sign.

Zack was so distracted from gazing at Susan that it took two calls of his name from the teacher to get his attention. He quickly sat upright and raised his hand shyly.

"You can take the empty seat next to Zack over there, Susan," said Mrs. Lee.

Susan's green eyes glanced at Zack's direction before the teacher pointed the way. Of course, he was the only person here without a partner. Zack pulled his backpack off the unoccupied chair next to him and dropped it to his side.

And nothing happened. Sure, she gave him a small smile, which was quite nice, but neither of them started a conversation once the teacher started the lesson's lecture. She probably saw what happened during lunch, he thought nervously. Most people here already thought he was weird and awkward, even though that news didn't surprise him. If she thought of him as a freak or a weirdo in a bad way, that would be harsh.

About ten minutes before the period would end, the lecture finished, and Mrs. Lee allowed the class free-time to do their homework and such. Everyone started talking in the room after a second it was announced. Only Zack stayed quiet and stayed in his seat, his backpack behind his legs, his chin resting on his forearm. He was drawing on a random page of his notebook, which he used to take notes for this class.

Then a tap on his shoulder startled him, causing him to drawing a crooked scribbled line on the paper. Zack looked up and turned his head at Susan.

She apologized. "I really got stop doing that."

"No, it's okay," Zack mumbled, sitting up sort of straight.

God, that sweet smile always got to him. "So, I heard you sort of took a dip in the school fountain."

He ran his fingers through his curly hair, which was still slightly damped from the fountain. "No I didn't...?"

"You smell like stale chlorine water instead of sweat, since you're in P.E. clothes," she pointed out. "And your socks are still wet."

Well, there was no point of fooling her. "Okay, I sort of fell into the fountain," Zack admitted. "It wasn't my intention, though."

Susan sighed. "Chris dunked you in the fountain, didn't he?" It wasn't exactly a question. She sounded unsurprised by it – only upset or annoyed.

"Does he do that to every new student that comes here?"

"Not all the time. He doesn't bother unless...something made him do it."

Zack slowly averted his eyes from her, looking back at his notebook. She was probably referring to what happened at the cafeteria. At least she didn't see him chase Chris around school.

"I don't blame you for what happened earlier," Susan reassured. "That was a pretty good throw."

Zack pulled a small smile and chuckled lightly. "I...I guess I kinda get a little mad sometimes, even if it's about the little things. It's crazy."

"We all need a bit of craziness sometimes."

They didn't talk for very long, but their conversation was simple and refreshing for Zack. Soon class ended – the end of the day, thank God. Before Susan left, she touched his shoulder when she stood up. "To be honest, I actually do think you are weird." Then she smiled softly and gave a light squeeze on his bicep. "But in a good way."

A good way! She actually thought he was weird, in a _good_ way. At least there was one bright side today.

Now it was time for after-school detention. Yip-pee.

Alvin accompanied Zack to the detention location, which was the library, but his only friend couldn't stay once they stepped through the doors. Vice Principal Jones was already there. Zack took a seat at one of the tables in the middle of the area and tossed in backpack in an empty chair next to him.

He looked like he was in the only person in the library, apart from Jones and the librarian.

"Um, Mr. Jones?" Jones narrowed his eyes at him, but Zack continued. "Shouldn't the other guy be here?"

"Chris Durango received an alternative, depending on what just happened recently."

Zack thought Jones had a subtle smile. _In other words_, he thought, _I got screwed over while the douche gets some kind of excuse for being a jock. Oh, lucky me!_

Detention was going to last for three hours, according to Jones, who wasn't going to stick around very long. Zack was either going to just sit down where he was the entire time or do some manual labor for Mr. Ford, the friendly, sixty or seventy year-old African-American librarian that a lot of students liked. Mr. Ford was kind enough to let him do little work of restocking about twenty books in the shelves and then to take a nap afterwards.

There was still about two hours and forty minutes until detention would end, so a nap sounded like a good idea. That chase made him exhausted, and he hadn't taken his medication yet. Well, it wasn't like he'd missed his daily dose, and he could always asked for a refill if Carmen didn't get upset.

Yawning, Zack rested his head in his arms on the table. Part of him was actually worried about snoring too loud, but it didn't matter, because he fell asleep right away after a second his eyes shut.

00000~~00000

_1524  
Firenze, Italia_

"Marcello, why don't you go with your mother and sister?"

The old man smiled warmly at his son, who sat next to him on the stone bench. If he had stood in front of a mirror that showed images of people several decades younger of themselves, he would be seeing his youngest child, who had inherited the same intelligent grey eyes, strong chin, and boyish, charming smile; only the nose and intelligence came from his mother.

Marcello, barely ten years of age yet, swung his short legs. "I want to stay with you, Papa," he said. "The other day, a merchant told me that I should spend more time with you as much as I can because you are very old. But I don't think you are _that_ old, though."

His father raised his eyebrows slowly. A few times before, he had been mistaken to be Marcello's grandfather, but that did not bother him so. What bothered him was the time. It was true, he was an old man, and he feared he may not live long enough to his own grandchildren.

He wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders and gave him a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, but I am an old man, Marcello. It would be like telling a stranger that your age is really twenty, unless . . . Is that a whisker growing under your nose?"

When his father playfully poked his nose, Marcello giggled. "You're silly, Papa. Of course no one would believe I am twenty years old. But...who will finish the story of the hero battling the evil prince when you're gone?"

When his father smiled softly, Marcello noticed the subtle sadness in his eyes. "The story is quite easy to predict, my son, as I have told you and your sister the story many times," he said. "The brave hero defeats the evil prince, hides and protects the powerful magic ball, and goes through his last adventure, where he meets his wife and then has a family, which he loves very much."

"Is that really all that's left of the story?"

So eager to hear more, his thought and chuckled. "Well, the hero is now very happy with his retired life, realizing the love and affection from his family kept him truly alive." He watched his son look down at his knees, noticing that "thinking look" – a small scowl, knitted brows, and bunched forehead lines.

Then Marcello stared up at his father. "Is that story about you, Papa?" he responded curiously. "_Zia_ Claudia said that story sounded like you during your younger days."

He rubbed his old chest gingerly. "_Forse_, she could be right. There is a truth behind every story. . . . Someday, I will explain it to you, when you are older. But for now, always remember this." With all his strength, he lifted up his youngest child and carefully placed him on his lap, like he used to when his children were much little. _They grow up so fast_...

"Whatever happens to me, whenever you feel lost," his father said warm-heartedly, "I will _always_ be by your side. In here – " He pointed at Marcello's chest, where his heart should be " – you will always find your way to the brightest ember when you know I am with you – _capito?_"

For a moment, Marcello had a confused expression, which his father chuckled lightly at, and he nodded. "_Si_, I...I think so," he answered slowly. Then he smiled brightly at his old and kindly father, and hugged him carefully. "_Grazie_, Papa."

The old man hugged back tightly before helping his son back on the bench. "Now, go help your mother and sister at the market, Marcello. You should spend time with them, as well."

"Okay, I will. I love you, Papa."

"I love you, too, my son. I will try to stay around as long as I can, for you and Flavia and your mother."

"Promise?" Marcello asked curiously.

His father nodded and gave him that warm and soft smile. "_Si_, I promise."

After one last hug, Marcello jumped off the stone bench and started heading to his mother and sister. Along the way, he barely missed colliding with another body. He quietly and quickly apologized to the young man, who just silently frowned and stared at the boy with an arched brow and sat down on the same spot beside his father. It was as if nothing had happened.

He couldn't stare at the young man any longer when his sister called his name: "Marcello! Come look at this mask I found."

Before going to his mother and sister, Marcello took one last look at his father. Papa looks tired, he observed. Maybe he should have stayed in the villa, like Mother insisted.

"Can I try on that mask, Flavia?" he asked his older sister. Flavia gave him the white delicate mask, and he held it in front of his face.

Through the eye-holes, Marcello noticed how odd the stranger looked. The young man had beady and narrowed dark eyes, brushy strong eyebrows, a bowl-shaped haircut, and a long scar on his face. Unlike his father's small scar, the stranger's scar extended from the corner of his lip as if he had a smirk or grin. He looked like he was trying to have a conversation with the old father.

"Let's show the mask to Mother now. I want to know if she will let me have it." Flavia took the mask from her brother and skipped over to their mother to do as she'd said.

Their mother walked over to them while holding a basket full of vegetables. Then Marcello turned away to distract himself at another stand, which stocked wooden toys and weapons. He examined the harmless, wooden toy sword. He hoped his father would teach him a bit of swordplay someday, just like the hero from the story.

Then the creeping chill ran up in his arms.

"Ezio!"

Marcello turned and found pieces of the white mask scattered on the ground with vegetables from his mother's basket.

It was his mother who had called her husband's name, but was given no response. Citizens nearby began to gather around the courtyard, disturbed and alerted. He watched Flavia and their mother rushing to Papa.

_I will try to stay around as long as I can..._

But there he was, lifeless on the hard, stone bench.

His legs were heavy. He couldn't hear anything, and his nerves numbed. Everything felt dark and ten times colder.

Pushing through the crowd, he called out to his father and hoped the sound of his family's voices would wake him up. _He promised...he made a promise..._

But that promise died along with him.

00000~~00000

Zack woke up on his own this time, feeling sort of dazed at first.

He reminded himself where he was – detention in the library, for three hours. He should have been napping for almost that long by then. However, looking at the wall clock, he noticed only a half an hour passed by already since he fell asleep. It felt much longer than that.

Mr. Ford approached Zack and tapped a few times on his table lightly to get his attention. "There's a young lady here to help you break out of prison," he informed humorously. "She said she's your older sister."

Zack managed a small chuckle from that prison joke. "That would be Carmen, my sister. Thanks, Mr. Ford."

The librarian smiled warmly and patted Zack's shoulder. "No problem, son, anytime," he said. "I can tell you're no troublemaker. Oh, can you do me one favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

Zack followed Mr. Ford behind the counter and stood by the doorway of the backroom as he waited for Mr. Ford to retrieve package behind his desk. It was a parcel box, not too big to fit in his bag, and it had a thick manila envelope tied on top with two yarns.

"Can you help me deliver this package when you have the time?" Mr. Ford offered. "It needs to be at this local shop before the end of the month. I'll write down the address for you. Sometimes I end up forgetting things, and I'm actually going to be quite busy with something for the next few weeks. Can I trust you to do that for me?"

Zack wondered if this package was important; otherwise, there could be a slim chance to trust him with it. He never thought anyone could trust him with anything, important or not.

After Mr. Ford gave him the package and a sticky-note with the written address, Zack carefully stuffed the package in his bag and walked out of the library.

* * *

**Forgive me if this chapter is short for you! I usually write about more than 5 to 7 pages. I'm actually working on other stories and such. Mostly I'm just very tired due to lack of sleep.**

**I'd seriously like to have more reviews and people reading this. I guess it's because it's rated M even though it only has swear words and graphic violence (in the future), or most people these days don't like to read fanfics with OCs... Well, I'm not sure, but whatever. :P**

_12/09/2013 update: But now I changed it to Rated T! Why? Because not many people are reading it! Still doesn't matter. Not many people are reading my stories, anyway, even though I actually am trying to do my best with grammar and such. No offence, but you guys kinda suck, because I don't know what you people want to read these days! Sorry, I'm feeling sort of bitter right now._


	3. Ship For Supergirl and Spider-Man?

**Thanks for the nice reviews I've gotten lately. :) I promise I won't try to plan to delete this story again (though I had to delete a Prologue chapter, which I guessed why not many people bother to continue reading). I actually forgotten my ideas for Chapter 3, so I personally I think this chapter isn't great but it's decent, not sure what you guys think of it yet.**

**I also like to thank **Absolute Path APS **for the greatest review I've gotten (before I deleted the story) that ever encouraged me! It was very nice, including the PM you sent me before. I'm not sure what else to say because I'm a bit speechless, but thank you. :) And I'm sorry I made an unplanned deletion that included that review. Please forgive me.**

**Disclaimer: pfft, as if I'll ever get a chance to work with Ubisoft, so what makes FF think I can actually own AC?**

* * *

**THREE**

Zack and his older sister lived in the same house that their mother grew up in after she moved from Cuba. It was a simple two-floor bungalow with a wide porch and made with siding panels and bricks. Their great aunt and uncle used to own it; they passed away some time ago.

The drive home wasn't completely awkward. Zack met up with his older sister at the school's main entrance and followed her to the car. Carmen turned on the radio that played a Spice Girls song, which meant she was mad at him or she also had a bad day. She didn't say a word about detention or how he got it.

As Zack trudged upstairs, he was pulled back by his sister. "Zack, wait – we need to talk," she said.

Zack scowled and sighed through his nose. "What do you want me to say, Carmen? That I was stupid for getting myself in detention? That I'm about to become screw-up again?"

"You are _not_ a screw-up," Carmen objected. "And you're definitely not stupid. Not always bright – but the point is, whatever happened at school, it happened. High school sucks. I get it."

Well, she was right about high school. Zack hesitated for five seconds, nervously drumming his fingers on the stair railing.

"What . . . what do you think Mom would've said to me?" he mumbled. Bringing up their mom wasn't very easy to bring up, but he had to try now and then – something a therapist had advised.

Carmen must've thought the same thing. Mom always knew what to say for these kinds of situations.

"Mom would have told you the same thing – but only better than me," Carmen answered carefully, brushing back her loose stubborn hair strands. "Let's just forget what happened today. Don't let it happen again, or else . . . okay?"

"So, the interview sucked?"

Carmen arched her eyebrow. Maybe he shouldn't have made that cheeky remark, but at least it meant he was feeling a little better now. Since Carmen had finished her college time abroad and became his only legal guardian, she'd been trying to find a job in town. Sometimes Zack joked that he would feel sorry for other employees to have his sister as their co-worker.

As if as payback, she asked him about his medication intake. Zack did the best thing most teenagers do: He lied. Then he raced to his bedroom before anything else could be said.

His bedroom still smelled like the first day he'd moved here a month ago – a mixture of old perfume, newspaper, and baby products. It didn't usually bother him; but now his senses were getting jumpy, as if he was forced to notice unnecessary details. Maybe he was starting to feel a side-effect for missing his meds. It wasn't the first time, though – having an awkward lightheaded, skittish tingle that made his bones want to burst out.

Before he could carelessly toss his backpack on the floor, Zack remembered about the package from the librarian Mr. Ford, and he placed it on a chair against the back wall. He had to deliver it before the end of the month, but he didn't know the map of the area very well.

For the next hour or two, Zack procrastinated – putting away some belongings around or out of his room. Then he drew random scratchy sketches to add with others hidden away in his desk drawer.

He continuously drew several drawings of a futuristic ball, like a random Poke' ball concept with strange jigsaw lines around. He would occasionally draw something peculiar from his dreams before he could forget it; and lately, it had been this ball, and sometimes with a man and woman running away with it. It made no sense to him, whatsoever.

Later, Carmen tapped on his door and informed that a friend from school was in the house to see him. No doubt it was Alvin wanting to know what happened in detention. _What a nosy guy_ . . . but Zack needed a friend now.

He found Alvin standing in the middle of the living room checking around the interior with old furniture and several boxes lying around.

"This is a pretty nice house," Alvin said, putting a book back on the shelf. "Why does the place smell like baby power?"

"Never mind that," Zack said. "What're you doing here? I didn't join a Breakfast Club or anything."

"Well, you know, just being neighborly, stopping by. I was also wondering if you want to go to the mall. I'm just gonna pick up some computer parts and stuff, and it'd be nice for some help carrying them."

Zack looked at his older sister for permission, and Carmen nodded. No surprise – she would want him, her only socially awkward little brother, to get out more . . . and maybe get a girlfriend, too.

"Be sure not to come home too late," she said.

"Ah, no need to worry about that, Car. I'll make sure he'll get home before dinner. This guy's kinda like a little brother to me! I'm pretty family-orientated that way." Alvin snatched Zack closer to his side and patted his broad shoulder like a best friend, while attempting a confident smile.

How could he be a little brother to him? One, they were the same age; and two, Zack was two inches taller.

"Hey, it'd be great if I joined you guys for dinner and try some awesome food made by the pretty lady that I've heard so much about," Alvin suggested, sounding a little too hopeful.

Zack rolled his eyes. Alvin couldn't have been more obvious why he was acting like this.

Carmen smiled coyly from the compliment. "Aw, thanks, Alvin." Then she said, "But I'm not into little boys. I mean it, Zack – get home before dinner, or else . . ."

With that, she picked up a half-opened cardboard box off a chair and carried it to another room.

"Ouch." Zack stifled a laugh. Alvin's expression was a little complicated to read – speechless, embarrassed, rejected, impressed, or a mix of all.

After a minute since Carmen left, Alvin blinked and asked, "Is she dating someone already?"

Zack slapped his shoulder. "She just said she's not into little boys. Remember why you're here, man. I'll go with you to the mall. There's actually somewhere I want to check out on the way."

After telling Alvin to wait, he hurried to his bedroom to get his backpack with Mr. Ford's package inside. Stepping out to the porch, Zack nearly collided with a tall man in front of him. The man was in his late thirties, with a trimmed Van Dyke beard, and had an olive tan similar to Zack.

"Sorry, Uncle Marco," said Zack.

His uncle, Marco, chuckled heartily and patted Zack's shoulder reassuringly. "Hey, it's okay, _sobrino_. No blood, no foul."

Despite his age, Marco acted almost more like a big brother that Zack never had than a father-figure. And if he'd shaved his beard, Marco would've looked about ten years younger. He was always supportive when Mom was a single parent raising her two kids; and since their mom was gone, Marco continued supporting Carmen and Zack and tried visiting as much as possible, from halfway across the country because of his business trips – whatever they were about.

"What're you doing here?" Zack said. "I thought you weren't dropping by until next week."

"Well, I was able to get an early flight to see my family," said Marco. He had a light Cuban accent. "I even managed to get some hard drive parts and such for Carmen."

Alvin's eyes gleamed. "Your sister's into computers, too?"

Zack quickly elbowed his arm. He was definitely not going to invite Alvin over for dinner if he kept acting all puppy-love over his sister.

"So, how long are you staying this time, Marco?" Zack asked.

"Probably about a week or two," his uncle answered. "You know, business trip and stuff. Anyway, I get to hang out with my favorite _familia_ a little longer. We're you two off to?"

Before Zack could reply, Alvin asked, "What kind of business do you do, Marco?"

He probably shouldn't have asked, mostly because he wasn't really part of Zack's family. Well, even Zack didn't know what his own uncle did for a living. Marco just arched his thick brow at Alvin.

Zack quickly apologized and told his uncle he'd be back from the mall later as he steered Alvin away from the house. "You are such a nosy weasel, Al, you know that?"

"What? I was just trying to be friendly," Alvin protested. "You act really reserve whenever it comes to your fame-mill-lee-uh."

Zack couldn't argue with him about that, besides the lame Spanish attempt. On the first day of school, Alvin asked about his parents, and Zack gave him a look that almost said _Ask that again and I'll throw you to a pack of wolves_. It was a bit stronger than just _reserved_, but still – a subject about his family, especially about his mom _and_ dad, was too sensitive.

They got inside a senior student's car, parked across the house. The computer stuff they were about to get from the mall was for the Alvin's computer club at school. The senior student, Alvin's cousin named Leroy, was president of that club, and he looked almost intimidated by Zack, who sat in the backseat alone.

_Great_, Zack thought bitterly, _now people are starting to think I'm the school thug_.

Before they headed straight to the mall, Zack asked Alvin if they could stop at a store along the way. He gave Leroy the written address. Alvin asked why they wanted to go to there, and Zack shrugged – he wasn't sure if he should tell anyone about his errand delivery for the school librarian.

They drove through a Main Street area. Different types of storefronts dashed by, from local diners to flowers to fish baits. There was even a narrow-like street mainly for walking pedestrians, like something out of Paris or London.

Soon they pulled over on the curbside in front of a quaint shop. It didn't stand out much, besides the arched doorframe. It was a low building made of bricks and few decades or so old because of the faded dark green paint on the wide window frames.

As he exited the car with his backpack, Zack told Leroy to wait and he walked up to the front. It was some type of standalone building, he guessed. On either side were a low grassy hill and a few short trees, making the store building look like a bunker entrance. The brass-lettered store sign etched above the doorway:

WOLFSON'S BOOKS & ANTIQUES  
_Established since 1900._

However, Wolfson's was closed. Zack found a sign hanging on the door's glass window. It mentioned the owner was away on a business trip and would return in a few days or next week. There were still a few weeks until November – still enough time to deliver Mr. Ford's package.

After Zack got back in the car, Alvin's cousin continued driving to the mall.

It was a sort of outlet mall, both indoors and outdoors, and moderately crowded in the late afternoon. At least it wasn't Black-Friday crowded. Since Zack didn't take his meds, big crowds might give him panic attacks. It was a rare case, but it was possible. It sort of happened once . . . but he couldn't remember what exactly happened, besides waking up in a hospital bed. _Weird_ . . .

"Earth to Zacky-poo." A hand waved up close to his face.

Zack blinked several times. He had completely spaced out and looked like he was idly staring at a half-naked mannequin behind a Victoria's Secret window – which he was _not_ staring, of course. He wasn't _that_ weird.

Zack pushed the hand away from his face, stepped away from the Victoria's Secret department, and scowled. "Don't call me that again, Alvin," he said.

"Just making sure you're not really planning on buying new underwear," Alvin snorted. He and his cousin Leroy had picked up everything on their list at an electronics store, with Zack's assistance, and now they were just strolling around like normal teenagers at the mall – which was a first for Zack.

Leroy had decided to hang out with his other friends he'd seen and let Alvin and Zack go wherever in the mall. After passing through GameStop, Zack followed Alvin in a small costume department. He asked why they were going to that store, and was reminded that it was almost Halloween. (He thought Alvin would dress up as Waldo, but learned the guy usually dressed up like that.)

Alvin picked up a Stormtrooper helmet that looked pretty authentic. A few little kids almost bumped into them while running around playing with plastic toy ninja swords. When he noticed Zack loitering and glancing around the store awkwardly, he nudged his chest once with the helmet.

"Don't just stand there," Alvin said. "Look around! You might find something you'll like. You don't think you're too old for Halloween, do you?"

Zack shrugged. He hadn't really acknowledged Halloween since – what? Since he was eleven years old? It wasn't as if he had anything against Halloween or thought it was too childish. Hey, people give out free candy and put on costumes to be someone else for one night. But he just stopped, that was all – and sure, maybe it he was a little old for Halloween.

"So, why, exactly, are we here?" Zack asked, picking up a pirate hat off the floor.

"I just want to be sure of my costume for Halloween, especially for the Halloween party," Alvin said.

"A party?" Zack was sure the school didn't mention anything about a Halloween dance party. Talk about scary, he thought.

Alvin shook his head, as if reading his mind. "Not at school – thank god! It's at, uh, what's-that-guy's-name…? Harvey? Yeah, it's at Harvey's place. He's a junior, like us. Every year he throws a Halloween party, and almost everyone at school is invited."

"And you're going," Zack said.

"I said _almost_ everyone," his friend clarified. "Despite the fact that me and that guy have had the same classes since first grade, he doesn't even remember my name . . . or my existence, not that I'm surprised."

"Hey, you're existence does matter." Zack gave him a light friendly punch on the bicep. "It's just a party, so who cares? There's next year, maybe."

"I guess so. I just wanted to know what it's like, the party I mean." Alvin shrugged. "I've actually only been there once in eighth grade, but this Halloween, Harvey's parents are out of town. Who knows what'll happen? Maybe there's gonna be beer kegs, or the house might explode and cops will show up. Don't wanna miss that! You know how crazy kids can be in parties."

Zack laughed. Then, looking passed over Alvin's head, he recognized a familiar golden-blonde and green-eyed girl across the store near the back – Susan Newcastle. She and her two friends, who he recognized from school, browsed the clothing racks and costume set-ups. That Supergirl outfit she held would look great on her . . .

Meanwhile, Alvin continued to ramble:

"Anyway, Z-man, you should consider picking a costume, too. It'd probably be less weird for me to go around town and get candy alone if you join. Yep, us two cool dudes prowling the night in style! Not weird at all. There are cosplay-expos, though. I think people in comic-cons have better costumes than during Halloween. One time, I was Link at an expo, with a sword and everything . . . And you're not listening again . . . Zack?"

It took Alvin a few moments to realize that Zack wasn't at his side anymore.

Instead, Zack was several meters away across the store from where he stood earlier, and he was almost close enough to hear Susan and her friends' conversations. He had a plastic Spider-Man mask covered his face, and he pretended to check through the clothing wall-racks like another regular customer, standing between a few people and blending in.

Yep, he was very inconspicuous. Nothing weird at all about eavesdropping at a girl he started liking after one day meeting her.

For a few minutes, Zack only overhead giggles and small comments, nothing news-worthy. They didn't notice him. He occasionally tried to glance at Susan as much as possible – and wow that sounded weird, almost like a stalker.

Then he heard Susan mention him. "Hey, guys," she said to her two friends. "What do you know about the new guy at school? Zack Romero. I think that's his name."

"I know that he's pretty cute," said one friend at the right side of her. Her name was Terry, as Zack recalled; Terry was in the same art class as him. She dressed a bit chic-punk and yet colorful, like something out of an anime, often wore a long tutu skirt and her short wavy hair had some dyed purple highlights. She was overall a friendly and outgoing person, as far as Zack could tell, but she never approached him.

"Well, I think he's mostly cute in an awkward-mysterious sort of way, but I like that," Terry added. "What 'bout you, Brianna?"

Brianna scoffed. She was the girl who gave Zack a sort of disapproval look at school from the start of lunch time. She looked like one of those rich kids from Beverly Hills. She wore slightly thick eyeliner and shiny make-up. Her sun-kissed tan, which obviously wasn't her natural tone, didn't match well with her dyed bleach hair.

"Otter-mode isn't my type, you know that, Terry," Brianna said, "and Zeke's hair almost looks like my neighbor's poodle from the eighties. He can't compete with someone like Chris Durango. I still don't understand why you broke up with him, Susan."

"Zack," Susan corrected, which made Zack smile. "I asked what you know about him, not your opinions."

"Well, I heard he has an older sister he's living with," Terry informed.

_Jeez_, _small town,_ Zack thought. And his hair looked like a poodle? His sister had once remarked his curly hair was a mix between a young Tom Selleck and Lionel Richie – but a poodle?

"Did you also hear he was kicked out of his last school before moving here?" Briana quipped. "A military school, I guess, because someone told me he chased _and_ tackled Chris during lunch. Seriously, Sue-bear, I don't think the new guy is . . . _safe_ for you. I just got a weird vibe from him. I mean, you heard what happened to Chris . . ."

"And he probably deserved it," Susan interjected. "It's his fault for being a jerk. I saw what happened in the cafeteria. You were there, too."

"Is that why you broke up with him?"

Susan suddenly became more interested with a silly pumpkin mask. Zack could tell, from noticing how her eyes looked, that the break-up topic bothered her and maybe sad. It actually made him want to know what happened between her and Chris Douche-rango.

Five minutes later, Susan and her friends decided to leave the costume store, and they were about to pass Zack's direction. He ducked his head and pretended checking out a pair of red cowboy boots display.

A moment or two later, Zack looked up and watched their backs leave the store. He sighed in relief as he took off the Spider-Man mask, and when he turned around, he jumped in alarm finding Alvin, who smirked as if he caught someone taking the entire cookie jar, standing a few feet away behind him.

"What, aren't you gonna follow them?" Alvin was obviously trying not to laugh. "We might bump into Miss Newcastle and her friends at the food court if we hurry."

"Shut up, Sato." Although, a teenie-tiny part of Zack hoped that would happen.

But it didn't happen – at least for now. He had to be home before dinner, and Susan wasn't at the food court when he stopped at Jamba Juice.

"Hey, Alvin, I need to ask you something," Zack said.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Does my hair look like a poodle?"

Slurping his smoothie, Alvin raised his eyebrow, as if that was the oddest question he'd received, and inspected his head. "No, I don't think so," he finally said. "It looks more like a Tom-Selleck-mix-poodle."

Zack smacked his shoulder. Although, he reconsidered, he's actually right.

**A  
00000~~00000  
Γ**

Why was a high school librarian the last person to leave school?

It was exactly seven-forty PM. The only car in the school parking lot was a station wagon. Far across the school lot was a white Chevy Impala with tinted windows on the curb. Inside the Impala, a man in his thirties studied the librarian exit the building.

Then his cell phone rang.

"_Do you have anything for me?"_

He didn't answer right away; he held his phone away and continued his watch.

As the old librarian unlocked his station wagon, another person – most likely a teacher – wearing a bicycle helmet approached him. They made small talk and jokes no longer than a minute, and finally the helmet teacher handed over a white envelope before leaving.

Finally, Mr. Ford drove away from school property, passing by the parked Impala.

"_Well . . . ?"_

The man gently pressed his cell phone against his ear and said, "I found him. He's exactly where you said he'd be."

"_Good. Then you know what to do."_

**A  
00000~~00000**  
**Γ**

The rest of the week dragged on, but in a pleasant way.

Zack still had his week-detention in the library to finish; however, Vice Principal Jones always left the librarian Mr. Ford in charge, and Ford was awesome to let Zack leave about an hour before the end.

Carmen managed to find an extra prescription pill bottle (in case he'd lost the other one – go figure), but not a new job. She was reconsidering a stay-at-home freelance job. The computer that Marco delivered the other day was set up, but left untouched. Zack was not allowed to use it, along with Carmen's laptop, unless with permission. It must be a little punishment for losing his last meds, or last week's lunch beat-down.

Cafeteria was, sadly, a place to avoid. After what happened the other day, Zack expected another incident might occur if he bumped into Chris, and he couldn't _just _ignore them if that jerk did something. A few times, he and Chris exchanged glares between class periods, and shoulders rammed each other on purpose – from Chris or his friends, of course. There was no way to have a normal lunch period again. Alvin considered this and ate lunch in his laid-back class. Zack found a way to the school's rooftop, where he'd eat alone for now.

Before the weekend, Mr. Ford left for an appointment, which Zack assumed it was that "something" that would keep him busy, mentioned before. Zack still hadn't finished the errand because Wolfson's was still closed. November was rolling in fast.

Oh, and the pleasant part of the week?

Zack took every chance to hang out with Susan, and he liked her more every day. They would just talk – no flirting attempts whatsoever. He learned a few interesting things about her: she started her photography hobby several months ago; she wanted to learn a foreign like Spanish (which Zack would be _very_ glad to help her with); and she took karate lessons during middle school to fight off bullies.

Cute, smart, _and_ violent – he liked that combination.

And yes, she was currently not dating anyone. He'd finally prove his sister that he could get his first girlfriend before turning eighty.

Things were looking good for once . . . Until a week later, when Zack saw several parked police cruisers.

That morning, Zack walked to school with Alvin, who rode a bicycle beside him. Along the way, Alvin pestered him when he learned his awkward friend didn't have a costume for Halloween. "Come on, Zack. It's, like, a week from Halloween and you still haven't decided yet? What if . . . ?"

"No, I don't want to borrow your Link costume," Zack said. "You didn't answer my question yet – what's with juniors still taking PE class here?"

Alvin shrugged, strolling on his bike several feet ahead. "Unless you've done a course in summer school or you're a jock, you have to take three years of PE here. Three years of screeching whistles and smelly locker rooms. At least we still get to see the girls' PE class. And if you're wondering – no, Susan doesn't have PE anymore, so probably shouldn't peek in the girls' locker room."

Zack hid his blush with his jacket's hood. He wasn't wondering about that, and he'd never peek! Jeez . . . he wasn't that obsessed with her, no matter how much Alvin teased him about it.

As if on cue, Zack spotted Susan Newcastle getting out of her car from the student parking lot. Man, he really liked the way her hair fluttered from the light breeze.

Then Zack crashed behind Alvin and his bike, but they didn't fall. He was about to Alvin why he stopped when he noticed the flashing red and blue lights.

About five or six police cruisers and two ambulances parked near the entrance of the school. Yellow strips blocked any entrance that students would take, including around the front area where dozens of high school students stood behind. Other students that just arrived ran to the scene and tried getting a better view. A few officers on the other side kept ordering them not to cross.

"What's going on?" Zack said. There was an unsettled chill running through his bones. _Run_, his instincts said. _It's not safe here, get out!_

Alvin waved at him to follow. They swerved through the crowd, trying to find a less crowded area. Zack spotted a few local news reporter vans nearby. He couldn't hear what the news lady said. Too many kids murmured rather loud:

"It happened in the library . . ."

"School will be cancelled . . ."

"Forgot to put on underwear . . ."

Several meters away, standing beside an ambulance, an officer was talking to a girl with purple highlights – Terry, one of Susan's friends. Tears streaked down her face and smeared her black eyeliner. The officer did his best to comfort her and carefully ask questions. While Terry was sitting in the ambulance, a paramedic was rubbing her palms, which were stained red. Blood, Zack guessed. Soon, Terry's hands were clean.

Susan ducked under the yellow boundary and sprinted across the lot to Terry. They both crashed into a hug, and Terry sobbed in her shoulder.

Alvin's face looked grim. "Not looking good, man," he muttered.

After Susan steered Terry away from the scene, she told Brianna to escort Terry to her car. Zack pushed out of the crowd and confronted Susan near the ambulance.

"Is Terry okay?" Zack said. "What happened?"

Susan nodded. Her arms were shaking. She was trying hard not to cry, but her eyes were getting watery.

Zack offered her a hug, which she accepted. This would've been an awesome moment, being the first hug with Susan – but the tense atmosphere and surrounding police cruisers didn't brighten the mood.

After a few moments, Susan pulled away and squeezed Zack's arm, trying to keep her breathing steady. "Terry . . . she – she was going to the library, to recheck a book. The doors were unlocked, and no one else was there – and she found him, there – god, I-I can't believe this happened. Why would someone do something like this?"

Zack didn't ask any more. He was about to find out when another news reporter nearby ordered his cameraman to aim for the body bag. A few paramedics pushed a gurney down the handicap ramp by the school entrance. Police officers barked at students to back away from the tape. After the body bag was loaded in the ambulance, he had a sickened feeling that he knew who was inside, and the exact guess was repeated by the nearby reporter.

The head librarian, Peter Ford, was found dead in his office.

* * *

**If you made it this far without skipping the whole chapter, kudos to you and thanks! Please review, comment, and add me to your favorites. Maybe tell your friends about my story :) Again, big thanks for the reviews!**

**And if anyone else is wondering: YES, Zack will meet canon characters from the present time AC series! However, I'm not completely sure how they'll meet or who he will meet, but it's been part of my plan. Most canons might be mentioned, and Rebecca and/or Shaun might make cameo appearance. Again, I'm not sure yet.**

**Lastly, I have a question for you all and would like to hear your opinions: Should I make Zack a descendant of both Altair AND Ezio, OR just Ezio only? (I made it pretty obvious that he's related to Ezio)**


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